


Lazy Morning

by Guanin



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Cuddling, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-06
Updated: 2017-05-06
Packaged: 2018-10-28 17:24:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10835889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Guanin/pseuds/Guanin
Summary: The boys share cuddles and hair appreciation on the couch.





	Lazy Morning

Percival held Newt against him, head lying on Percival’s shoulder as they stretched out on the couch, pressed close together so that Newt wouldn’t fall off the edge. He carded his fingers through the messy mop of curls, stroking along his scalp. Newt curled his right arm around his waist, hand resting on Percival’s back, his left folded on his chest.

“I love your hair,” Percival murmured.

So soft. So carefree and rumpled. Percival was always precise with his own, making sure that his undercut was just the right length, that the lotion that he used each morning kept his hair in place, while Newt simply ran his hands through his hair a few times, quickly checked the mirror, and went on his way. No fuss. Presentation didn’t matter much to him, preferring practicality and putting his energy towards wearing hardy clothes.

“Mum is after me to get a trim,” Newt said, words brushing Percival’s collarbone in a gust of warm breath.

“I hope you declined the suggestion.”

He rubbed down Newt’s nape with the tip of his fingers, caressing along his left shoulder inside his shirt.

“Of course. I’m perfectly fine with my hair the way it is. And I had guessed your admiration for it.”

Grateful eyes peered up at him, a beautiful flash of green behind golden lashes.

“Don’t change a thing.”

Percival pushed Newt’s shirt off his shoulder and kissed it, sinking his face into the softness of his skin. Newt poked his jaw with his nose as he rested his face against his, eyelashes fluttering on his cheek. Newt lifted his right hand and brushed it through Percival’s own hair, releasing the long strands from the position that his lotion had fixed them in, so that a lock fell across his forehead as Newt stroked down to his nape and up again.

“I love your hair, too,” Newt said.

Percival smiled on his shoulder.


End file.
